When I begin to despair about the state of the world—and politics and religion in particular—I turn to the one sacred source that can bring me the peace that passes all understanding: Anne Lamott.
Her latest words in Salon were a balm to my Palined-out soul:
Everything you need to know about how to bear up during these two months is already inside you. Go within: Work on your own emotional acre. Stand still, and hurt, and feel crazy. Then drink a lot of water, pray, meditate, rest. Rest is a spiritual act. Now, I am a reform Christian, so it is permissible for me to secretly believe that God hates this woman, too. I heard God slam down a couple of shooters while she was talking the other night.
Lamott’s survival techniques have always resonated with me. We so often feel powerless to do anything to change the chaos in the world around us—especially those of us who cannot seem to avert our eyes from the train wreck of the current political landscape.
Lamott reminds us that to endure, we must rest our souls somewhere—and in something bigger than ourselves—even if it’s at sacramental Dove chocolate bar.
But rest does not mean disengagement. Indeed, Lamott urges us to daily take up our cross and do all we can to effect real change that makes the world better for all of us, not just some of us.
Figure out one thing you can do every single day to be a part of the solution, concentrating on swing states. Money, walking precincts, registering voters, whatever. This is the only way miracles ever happen—left foot, right foot, left foot, breathe. Right foot, left foot, right foot, breathe. The great novelist E.L. Doctorow once said that writing a novel is like driving at night with the headlights on: You can only see a little ways in front of you, but you can make the whole journey this way. It is the truest of all things; the only way to write a book, raise a child, save the world.
In the meantime, Lamott urges us to visit the Sarah Palin Baby Name Generator to give us something to smile about along the way.
I’m proud to say I share Anne’s name: Krinkle Bearcat. I’m thinking of having it tattooed somewhere.
